Outreach
by ForeverinMoonlight
Summary: Sticks and stones may break his bones, but that's not going to stop him.


_Disclaimer: It's pretty much a given that I don't own HP, right?_

**A/N:** Wow, it's been a while since I've written and posted a fic in this fandom. It's nice to be doing so again! ..But anyway. Three things to mention here. Firstly, this is based on both the books and the films, but mainly the former.. Secondly: it'd be best if I reminded you that Neville nearly drowned when he 'fell' off Blackpool pier when he was young.. And finally.. Neville is awesome (obviously, but why not say it again?). :D

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><p><strong>Outreach<strong>

_What good was he?_

No, really. He had never felt good enough.. Never _been _good enough. How could he be? From day one, it had always been the same. He'd not done this, he'd not done that. Clanging and clashing and falling and breaking _everything_, failure here - _worthless _there-

"_Clumsy since the day you were born, child..!"_

He hadn't been able to do anything. Nothing at all. Or very little - and very little just wasn't good enough, was it? Why would it be? Very little didn't get you anywhere. _Very little _didn't make you decent, didn't make you good, _certainly _didn't make you extraordinary-

"_Your father was..-"_

(Forgive me father)

"_Alice was always so-"_

(I'm sorry mother)

Beside them, he didn't even get a look in. Why would he? What was there to look at? Bruises and scrapes and burns and shattered bones one pain after another- Another trip another fall Neville you're so _clumsy_...-

Falling...

...Falling...

SPLASH he's_ choking_, choking engulfed splutter splutter struggle _flail_

Tick-tock-tick-tock struggle-struggle struggle no _please-_

"_-Please_, not _him_ _NO _I WON'T LET YOU NEAR _MY_ _S_-"

_He was dying._

He couldn't last much longer

"_Amazing they lasted so long"_

Neville, _Neville what happened this time_-

"_Unlucky he couldn't swim."_

Unlucky..

_..Unlucky_. Neville had always hated his luck.

Sometimes. When he got sick of hating himself. Because that was the real problem, wasn't it? Luck only got you so far anyway, and when it all went wrong there was only one person to blame-

-One person that _everybody _blamed, and.. why not?

He'd been so relieved when he had finally performed magic. _Finally_. Finally someone likes me, everything is going to change! After all _they _were in Gryffindor, that must mean something.

Father's wand in his pocket and the lion on his chest, _it had given him hope_.

More hope than he'd had for an age.

(Yes...)

..He _really had_ hoped.

And tried. _Honestly. _But he _still _wasn't good enough, of course - low marks and failure and blowing up and burns and bruises and

Failure after failure...

He always forgot. He always messed up.

_Worthless._

"_NOTHING BUT _SHAME_ TO OUR HOUSE-_-"

_Again._

"_-WHAT WOULD YOUR PARENTS-_"

..Think..? How could they think? Their _brains were GONE- no SANITY - _ nothing was left, nothing was there.. Just like you they thought _noth_-

...No. _There was something_. A glimmer, a ghost within the ghost, but in those split-seconds that he spotted it it was the realest, truest thing he had ever seen.

He kept the Droobles wrappers. Every single one.

_They were something._

However.. Don't get him wrong, _he knew_. His parents..

They were beyond his reach now. Where they resided, he could not follow.

That was one thing he hated even more than his luck most of the time, but it was also the one thing in his life that he would not apologise for.

_He was proud_.

They were extraordinary. Even if he felt powerless beside them.

...

_MASS BREAKOUT FROM AZKABAN_

...Those words.

_What they meant_- Well.

_He felt.._

However unlucky he was most of the time..

_Falling... Again..-_

He'd take all the bad luck in the world, _over that._

_Not that._

(Lestrange, Rodolphus)

Not_._

(Lestrange, Rabastan..)

_That._

(Lestrange... _Bellatrix_.)

Oh, Merlin. What was he going to do? Hah, no - _what could he do?_ He was the one always failing, he was the one forgetting and stumbling and _clumsy and _

_He wasn't good enough..._

He just.. wasn't good enough! _What the hell was he-_?

A terrifying moment. Heartbeats separating each space, drawing him deeper. Deeper. _Down..._

_-Click._

...In a fraction of that pause, it had simply happened.

A.. Decision.

_No._

It only took that word to sum it up.

'_No_'. It was true, there was a pit at the bottom of his stomach- or perhaps it was the void within his heart... Either way. He suddenly felt a strange power from within that darkness.

_No_..

It didn't matter. _It did not matter_, none of it. None of his concerns and his failures and..-

So what if he wasn't good enough? _He just had to get better. _Who _cared_ about luck? Yes. He could manage without it anyway. He _would _manage.

_He would_. Because that was what he had to do. _They _were out there and they were going to ruin _so many_ lives...

"_-Never stood a chance-"_

Well.

"_-It was too late by the time they got there-"_

Not if _he _had anything to do about it.

There was no choice. He _had _to get better; he had to do his best, he had to fight â€" despite the odds and the luck and the bruises, broken bones and burns..

For Hogwarts.

For his friends.

For _everything _he held dear.

_(I'm sorry Father, I broke your wand- no, _he _broke your wand.. Forgive me. But I swore. I've sworn now - Not again. Not.. again. I'll make you proud; I'll make you _both _proud.. That's a _promise._)_

And years passed, difficult and terrible and people died and writhed in agony- So many broken bones and ugly bruises and scars and torture, but _he was standing up_. No matter what they chucked at him, he _refused _to be broken.

He had been injuring _himself _in accident upon accident since practically the day he was born, so.. What was new?

Even standing before Voldemort and the army of cronies behind him, even with all hope snuffed out at the sight of the 'Boy-Who-Lived'; ally and friend most certainly dead (_beyond their reach_) in Hagrid's arms..

(_And the screaming was always so _terrible-)

"_You show spirit and bravery, and you come of noble stock. You will make a very valuable Death Eater. We need your kind, Neville Longbottom."_

..No matter what that bag of slime said to him..

_He knew what was important. _And he was _never _going to stop fighting for it. Harry or.. no Harry..

_Voldemort was going down._

Neville knew - he had a task to do, and he was going to complete it regardless. He was a Longbottom, after all. He was a member of Dumbledore's Army!

Bruises and scars and blood dripping unnoticed down the side of his head.. he was motionless-

(_But not through fear_, not any more..)

Let him burn. The lion in his heart _roared_..-

-And its prey was _that_ _snake_.


End file.
